a chance to share some ideas

Photography as a Personal Experience

I’ve been thinking about my photographs a lot – and those of others. I love looking at the images that friends post. Some touch my heart because of the beauty they have captured which Joe Reed does so well. Some because they record moments in the lives of friends and family such as the newest Meg photo taken by Debra. Some just because they are amazing such as a closeup of the moon taken by Vic. Each of these makes me jealous wishing I’d taken them.

Recently while at a local art show, someone said, “Next year you need to bring some of your photographs.” I was pleased at the assumption that someone might want to buy my photos, but it wasn’t a trap I was willing to fall into. Putting my images on a wall waiting to see what the response would be was NOT something I am willing to do.

Along the way a friend of mine who also likes to experiment with images said, “Let’s send each other some of our photos that we really like.” Seemed like a fun way to share so I did. Her photographs were very nice and gave me a window into her soul. Hopefully, she could say the same about mine. What was interesting was that each of us had an image of a grasshopper. I had photoshopped mine to make it almost a caricature of the original and have it on my computer desktop because I like it so much. Hers was closer to the original. Both were good but each was different. I liked mine better than hers, and she probably felt the same about hers.

This year my daughter, son-in-law, and I each were in the Mediterranean on vacation – but at separate times. Each of us shot countless pictures, and not surprisingly many were of the same ancient building or statue or landmark. Some of theirs I liked better than the ones I shot, but I didn’t ask for copies (except for the Vatican “door” because my husband was disappointed that I hadn’t been able to get a shot of it). Why not? If I was trying to record the trip, wouldn’t I want the best shots possible?

These experiences have made me think about why we take photographs. This weekend I had another experience that made at least one reason very clear to me. I had the wonderful opportunity to attend a live taping of a Garrison Keillor show.

Lake Wobegone has been a part of my family’s lives for longer than I can remember. We “tuned in” weekly for years to listen to the show and traveled across America on two separate trips listening to the stories. One year when our local NPR station was not carrying it any longer, my son and daughter-in-law took the time to tape each episode and then give it to us as a Christmas present. My husband has preached sermons using it as the base for his message. It’s hard to make clear how special Garrison Keillor has been to us. And so getting to finally “be there” was an event that literally made my heart race.

I wanted to take my camera (no surprise to anyone who knows me at all), but often they are not permitted. I carefully read the website and could find no restrictions, so I carried it with me. After we were seated, I looked over the program and could find a restriction against taping and video recording but nothing about still photos, so I took out my camera and took two quick shots preparing to make modifications to ensure better results on the next ones. At that point, my beloved son-in-law pointed to the ticket that said, “no cameras would be allowed in the theatre.” Conundrum. It didn’t say no photos, but that does sound like the quibbling of a fifteen-year-old, so regretfully I put it away and spent the next hour just relishing the experience of being there.

But the longer I sat there, the more I wanted desperately some record of this moment, and finally I could stand it no longer and snuck my camera out for two more quick shots before it became apparent that it just wasn’t going to happen meaning I wasn’t going to get the memorable one I was looking for. So I gave up just hoping that at least one would be good enough for a “memory sake.”

When I arrived home late that night, I couldn’t wait till morning to see what I had. I downloaded my four precious images to my computer to “see.” One had potential, but it was very washed out because of the spotlight so I made one hopeful tweak, and magic happened. It was there. All there. Each memory. Each participant. Each sound. I instantly loved this photo as much as any I’ve taken in a long time.

And why did I love it so much? It captured the moment and brings it back to me each time I look at it. I look at each person on the stage and remember their contribution. I am once again sitting there in this special place.

And that’s why someone else’s photographs – no matter how wonderful they may be — aren’t the ones I want. They don’t carry me back to that point in time, because I wasn’t there. My photographs are my memories and I’m happy to share them, but I doubt that others want them any more than I want theirs. That doesn’t mean I don’t love looking at the images others share, because I do. After all, it’s a chance to peer over their shoulder to see their “moment in time.”

And so, no I won’t be displaying my photos in any art shows. I will post the ones I cherish on Facebook for others to see and like or not. But now I know that photographs are a way to carry into the future the remnants of our past, and I love that I can do that.